Impenetrable
by Missgoldy
Summary: Logic and analysis will only get you so far. An insight into Linka's complex inner thoughts and feelings. Written in response to OzQueene's Yuletide Letter 2016.
1. 23rd December

So I wrote this as part of OzQueene's Yuletide Letter on Dreamwidth. I have no idea how to post this to the Dreamwidth site so I'm posting here instead. It's a little late, sorry Lisa!

I just love her latest addition to the 100 Situations anthology (Chapter 29). I was fascinated by the way Wheeler used the _shield_ analogy to describe Linka's temperament in his interactions with her. It was really eloquent.

I wanted to explore that analogy from Linka's point of view. I guess a little window into her thoughts and feelings. Why she is the way she is. So this is my attempt, hope you all like it.

This will be a series of small snap-shots, culminating around the fifth chapter.

 **Impenetrable**

Chapter One

23rd December

She sits stiffly; her back rigid as she stares out of the Geo-Cruiser windows. Her green eyes scan the glistening water below but her mind is anything but calm.

Her jaw is tense as her gaze switches from the horizon to the back of Kwame's head. Their leader is sitting at the control panels, piloting them somewhere over the vast expanse of the Red Sea. Bringing them home.

He knows she is annoyed. All too aware of her sullen disposition since leaving Bulgaria after an intense few days locating and chasing polluters through underground sewer systems.

The Russian shifts in her seat, pressing her knees together and maintaining the correct posture in spite of the long flight ahead.

 _Do not slouch._

 _Shoulders back, child._

 _Chin up._

Her father's voice resonates through her subconscious, drawn forth like it was yesterday. She shakes the memory away but her body remains actively upright, regardless of her ability to bury the ingrained lessons.

Linka purses her lips and glances at the others. Gi is sitting in the seat opposite her, crouched over the back of Kwame's chair. She's laughing over his shoulder and pointing towards the console.

Impossibly bubbly, outgoing and comfortable in her own skin. Easy-going. Laid-back. Care-free. Everything that Linka is so evidently not.

Hot jealousy flares for the briefest of seconds before the Russian squashes it. Every now and again the Water Planeteer glances back towards the blonde sitting so rigidly in her seat, before murmuring quietly in Kwame's ear.

Linka knows they are talking about her. Discussing the argument. Their perceived over-reaction to Linka's earlier outburst. But if they had only listened. The Russian's plan of attack had been logical. She had campaigned passionately and had been disregarded; the others preferring to follow a certain red-head's impulsivity.

They hadn't listened to her.

She observes them quietly for a while with narrowed eyes. Gi catches Linka's sullen expression and smiles, a reassuring gesture that is returned in a much smaller measure by the blonde.

Linka looks away and sighs, staring down at her hands. She grips the hem of her shorts with clenched fists and straightens her back again.

 _Posture is important, malyshka._

Her eyes flick towards her remaining team-mates.

Ma-Ti is directly behind Linka. She can hear the muffled sounds coming from his ear buds, the rainforest music that leaves his mind devoid of the side effects that occur even when his ring is not in use.

Wheeler is asleep. His chin is resting against his chest and his body is slumped down low in the seat. His long legs are propped awkwardly up against the back of Gi's chair and his hand hangs limply, skimming the floor of the cabin below. Her brow furrows as she studies his limp hand, noting the long, stocky fingers and the calluses marking the skin of his palm; a testament to the heavy-duty lifting of both supplies and weights.

Her gaze trails up his arm towards his forearms, noting the muscular biceps and the veins visible under his skin. She swallows, her mouth dry as her mind wanders for the briefest fraction of a second. But as always she pulls it together.

 _Damn Yankee._

Her forehead touches the glass. It's cool against her skin and she reaches out, trailing a path over the window with her fingertip. Her breath leaves a foggy imprint and she tracks her index finger through the condensation that has formed. She blinks and wipes it away, careful not to leave any smudges or marks on the surface.

 _Cleanliness is next to Godliness._

She glances towards Gi and Kwame. They are whispering again; heads together. Silent conspirators.

But Linka knows she will rise above it. Science and logic will always endure over emotion and impulse. She is a sealed vault, afloat in a sea of chaos and disorganised thoughts. She will allow nothing to shake her core beliefs and values.

Because she is independent.

Strong.

Impervious to negativity.

She is impenetrable.


	2. 24th December

Adult themes in this chapter. Rated for the death of a minor, amongst others.

 **Impenetrable**

Chapter Two

December 24th

They were home for just two hours. Two hours. Barely enough time to unpack and grab a quick shower before they were assembled in the Crystal Chamber again. They were all exhausted. Gaia had been deeply apologetic, but her concern was hard to ignore.

Landslides in China. Probably a direct result of an illegal mining operation going on in the Southern Provinces. Greedly's name was on the paperwork and unsurprisingly he'd fled, leaving hundreds dead and even more missing.

Linka had held her head high as she returned to the Geo-Cruiser, always focused on the greater good. She dropped wearily into the co-pilot's seat as Wheeler took over the controls, allowing Kwame to sleep. The American's grumbling was hard to ignore however, even as they powered up and ascended.

"Stupid Greedly. It's fuckin' Christmas Eve…"

She'd bitten back verbally; her temper was already frayed enough as it was. A scathing remark, one of her trademark insults designed to flatten his ego and boost her own. Her intelligence was a double edged sword and her comment alluding to his selfish nature had it's desired impact.

They bickered on and off for the first quarter of the flight, until Kwame launched himself out of his seat and told them to knock it off; his hands gripping the headrests of their chairs and turning his knuckles white.

Linka bit her lip, knowing she'd taken things too far. As Kwame returned to his seat she risked a glance towards the pilot, noting his flushed cheeks, set jaw and hunched shoulders. Wheeler's eyes never left the expanse of ocean in front of them and she knew he was avoiding her.

The Russian ran her fingers through her damp hair and crossed her legs, tucking her feet underneath her.

If she were being honest with herself, Linka would have admitted that she understood Wheeler's sentiments. This was her third Christmas away from her family in a row and she had been bitterly disappointed to have been returned to the skies.

Her grandmother was experiencing chronic blood pressure issues. Linka had recently come to the realisation that _baba_ may not have many Christmas dinner's left. She had made plans to return home tomorrow, much to her family's delight.

 _Another broken promise._

Linka sighed. She flipped open her phone and scrolled through the contacts until she found her brother's name. She closed her eyes, steeling herself against the thought that she was letting her family down. Not meeting their expectations.

She dialled the number.

* * *

Overwhelmed.

So much carnage. The Planeteers didn't know where to start. Kwame, Ma-Ti and Gi had stepped right into rescue mode, since their powers were better suited to finding and retrieving survivors.

Fire and wind were a little redundant in the current situation, so Linka and Wheeler worked with the recovery teams.

She toiled for hours in the freezing conditions, digging and sifting through mud, icy slush and debris. The icy wind whipped around her face painfully, numbing her skin. Black body bags littered the area, lined up in neat rows and in a variety of shapes and sizes.

The trucks were arriving now, having had a path cleared in order to access the site. Men in military uniforms had alighted and quickly mobilised into action. The black bags were soon being swung into the semi-trailers and it grieved Linka to witness the almost callous way in which the bodies were being handled.

The Russian stood for a moment, her hands on her hips as she watched a familiar figure trudge down the hill towards her. Linka tilted her head, gnawing on her lip as Wheeler approached. He carried a small object in his arms, dwarfed within the adult-sized body bag it was contained within. Her breath caught and a lump rose in her throat, as it often did in these situations.

 _Focus. No weakness._

He passed Linka and laid the bag down gently with the others, allowing the bag's tiny owner a dignified treatment in death rather than the violent end he or she would have endured in life.

Wheeler turned and made his way wearily back up the hill, his shoulders hunched. As he passed Linka he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She swayed slightly, her mouth working to provide him with a kind word. A positive affirmation. _Something_.

But her words died in the wind as she watched his figure disappear over the ridge. A tremor passed through her and she gripped her arms, attempting to stave off the cold.

She was stoic as she continued in her efforts, accepting hot cups of tea from the surviving villagers who were so grateful for their presence. She sifted through dirt and construction materials, finding photographs, passports, children's toys and other paraphernalia that may never be reunited with their owners.

The realisation distressed Linka as her thoughts turned towards her own family once again. Being bitter about missing Christmas seemed like a distant memory now.

A shout issued to her right and she quickly jogged towards the request for help. Her fingertips were near-frozen within her gloves but she dug with all her might. A pale hand appeared after several minutes, almost graceful in it's final pose.

Linka sat back on her heels and allowed a nearby military team take over. She clutched her frozen fingers within her lap as the team extracted a young woman. The girl looked no older than Linka, perhaps a high school student or a local farm employee. Linka watched on as another black bag was produced, knowing that this young girl with a life and a family and a face would be effectively stripped of her identity; courtesy of the plastic sack she had just been zipped into.

The Planeteer soldiered on regardless, even as daylight faded and the shadows of night were cast over the scene. She had no concept of time but knew it was late evening.

The Russian eventually felt gentle hands slip under her armpits and she gave a small huff of surprise as she was lifted to her feet. The same hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around. She was greeted by a familiar wind-burnt face clad in a beanie, swathed in a heavy-duty rain jacket. Mud was caked over his clothing and smudges of dirt covered his nose and chin.

"Time to go babe," Wheeler yelled, leaning in towards her and struggling to be heard over the dull roar of helicopters arriving. "We've done all we can."

"My fingers are frozen," she whispered, so softly that she wasn't even sure he heard her. He frowned, looking down and moving his fingers towards her gloves. He gently eased them off, noting the bluish hue discolouring her fingertips.

"Shit," he muttered, grabbing her wrists and easing her hands under his layers of clothing to rest against the warm skin of his ribs. He lowered his elbows, effectively pinning her limbs in place while he rubbed her upper arms in an attempt to keep her warm.

She stood stiffly against him, her forehead resting against his chest as the victims faces continued flashing through her mind.

Linka wiggled her fingers, skimming her thumbs briefly along his bare skin. She was gaining the sensation back now but made no effort to move away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ma-Ti approaching. He raised his hand and whipped his finger around, indicating that they were preparing to leave.

She shuddered, unsure now whether it was from the cold, from the job or from her close proximity to the _Yankee_.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

 _Nyet._

But Linka nodded, an automatic response. She retrieved her hands from under his shirt and gave him a small smile as she turned away. With business-like efficiency she grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder.

 _Head high. Be professional. Represent to the best of your ability. Do not show weakness._

She walked away quickly, leaving Wheeler trailing along behind her, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets

They reached the Geo-Cruiser, looking as utterly exhausted as the remainder of the group already waiting inside. Linka sunk into the back seat, raising her eyebrows at Gi who was covered head to toe in mud.

"Fell over," the Water Planeteer muttered by way of explanation; stripping down to her singlet and thermal leggings as Ma-Ti powered up the engine.

Linka gave her an apologetic smile and slumped further into her seat, too tired to worry about her posture now. But the faces, the smell of death and the shiny texture of the body bags remained, flashing through her mind at an ever-increasing pace. She closed her eyes and swallowed, remaining stoic in the face of such destruction.

She had been given an extraordinary power and it was her _duty_ to see it through. She would rise above it. She can rise above it.

Because she is independent.

Strong.

Impervious to negativity.

She is impenetrable… but the veneer was fading and the cracks were starting to show.


	3. 25th December

**Impenetrable**

Chapter Three

25th December

It was two A.M. by the time the Planeteers trudged into the small apartment; relieved beyond words that they'd found accommodation during the busy peak period. No one was capable of flying home in their current condition; having spent the last 48 hours operating on little to no sleep.

So they'd travelled the short distance to Shanghai instead, chancing upon an available tiny one-bedroom apartment courtesy of Ma-Ti's diligent web-surfing.

The girls had both showered and climbed into the double bed together, just like they had on countless other missions. After six years on the job, they knew better than to argue with the guys about perceived gender expectations when it came to sleeping arrangements. Regardless of their backgrounds and cultures, they were nothing if not perfect gentlemen.

Linka smoothed the sheets out around her, listening to Gi snoring gently beside her. Her body was seriously depleted but her mind refused to shut down. She flicked the lamp on and looked up, craning her neck and studying the intricate cornices lining the ceiling. Her damp hair was plaited and lying across her chest and she gripped the loose strands at the end, still trying to regain the feeling in her fingertips.

Low murmurs issued from the kitchen/living area. The door separating the rooms was slightly ajar and Linka could still see movement. She rolled over with a sigh, pulling the blankets around her as she watched Kwame sink onto the sofa in the living area. He dragged a thick quilt around his legs, speaking in hushed tones to Ma-Ti beside him.

She found herself wondering if they had witnessed anything at the landslide site on the same level as she and Wheeler had experienced. The Russian found herself almost resenting the fact that while the others had been dealing with the exhilaration of finding and rescuing living, breathing people; she and the _Yankee_ were left to deal with the emotional aftermath of handling the deceased. It certainly wasn't the first time.

The water pipes groaned above her head as the water was shut off. A cloud of steam billowed out as Wheeler crossed into her line of sight. Hair wet, bare chested and a towel wrapped around his waist, he nudged Ma-Ti's leg with his foot and propped himself on the arm rest, talking quietly.

Linka's gaze drifted from Wheeler's broad chest to his well-defined arms - a habit that was becoming frustratingly familiar lately. She narrowed her eyes, biting down on her thumb as a warm flush enveloped her face and neck. Her mind stalled and went blank for a moment, blissfully devoid of her usual chaotic thoughts.

 _Damn Yankee._

He glanced up unexpectedly, tilting his head and appearing to glance in Linka's direction. She rolled over with a gasp, curling up into a foetal position and shutting her eyes with renewed vigour. Her body shifted restlessly and she exhaled, breathing out the events of the day and focusing on her personal mantras.

But sleep remained elusive.

* * *

Linka had stumbled out of the room at around 10:30am, crossing her arms across her chest to stave away the chill in the air.

Gi had immediately greeted her best friend with a warm smile, wishing her a Merry Christmas and wrapping her arms around the Russian. Linka returned the gesture as Gi had stepped back, her eyes wide with surprise. "Ugh, you look terrible," she commented.

"I did not sleep much," Linka replied softly, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the luggage rack and grimacing. Her skin was pale and dark circles were evident under her eyes. She squeezed Gi affectionately, before disentangling herself and sinking onto the lounge beside Ma-Ti. For the first time she noticed that two team members were missing.

Linka enquired as to their whereabouts and Ma-Ti explained that they had been called back to Guandong about two hours ago.

The Russian rose to her feet, her mouth dropping open and feeling surprised that no one had woken her. Ma-Ti held his palms out. "Relax, Linka. They're just wrapping things up."

"Oh," she replied. She sat back down, watching Gi bustle around the minuscule kitchen, clinking mugs together in her efforts to make tea and coffee. She gratefully accepted the steaming mug Gi offered her and leant back. "Spasiba."

"Will you still try to see your family at some point, Linka?" Ma-Ti asked.

She nodded, taking a sip. "Da. The Russian Christmas Day is technically on the seventh of January. Although I've become accustomed to celebrating it earlier with them, like the rest of you."

"Shall we go out for a Christmas lunch?" Gi had asked, leaning her elbows against the kitchen bench and looking down at them. "May as well do something to celebrate."

"Will anything be open? It's Christmas day?" Ma-Ti asked.

"We're in China, Ma-Ti," Gi said, smiling with amusement. "Jesus really isn't their thing. Shall we find a noodle bar, or maybe a restaurant while we wait for the guys?"

Linka grinned, feeling a little lighter. "Da. Lets."

* * *

They had caught a taxi to the Pudong district, finding themselves at the entrance to a massive structure that looked like a cross between a rocket launch tower and an alien mothership.

Linka wrinkled her nose as she studied the unusual architecture of the Oriental Pearl Tower and the revolving restaurant perched like a bulbous growth off the main tower.

They rode the lift to the top and were seated immediately in a booth beside the windows. Ma-Ti headed straight for the buffet, complaining that he was starving. Linka sat back, taking in the scenery while she played with the seams of her fabric napkin.

It took her a few minutes to notice Gi studying her quietly. She met Gi's gaze and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Gi sighed. "Are you all right?"

Linka opened her mouth and closed it again, frowning as she contemplated her response. "Da. Why do you ask?"

Gi had pressed on carefully, knowing her friend hated admitting anything that resembled weakness. "I've just…" She swallowed nervously. "We've just noticed that you've been kinda' tense lately. You seem really stressed."

Linka bristled. Her voice wavered slightly and she bit back the waves of panic that were rising. "Of… of course I have been tense, we all…we have all been very busy," she stammered, feeling flustered.

Gi shook her head, grabbing her hand. "I'm only asking because I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself. You know you can talk to us, right?"

Linka shrugged, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate it, Gi. But I am fine. Just a little tired."

"Okay." Gi looked unconvinced but knew she would get no further with her gentle prodding. She looked up as Ma-Ti approached their table, grinning with his plate piled up with food.

Gi slapped him on the back as she stood, beckoning for Linka to follow. The Russian squeezed out and trailed along behind her best friend.

They piled their plates and returned to the table. Gi and Ma-Ti chatted comfortably as Linka gazed out towards the city below, chewing her food slowly. She sat tensely, struggling to rid herself of the lump that still remained in her throat; triggered by Gi's innocent probing.

 _Focus. Get it together. Ivanov's do not cry._

But the sight of a garbage trolley distracted her as it was wheeled past, lined with an innocuous black plastic bag. Her pulse went into overdrive and her stomach turned. She abruptly excused herself. Ma-Ti and Gi watched her go, their conversation halting as they traded worried looks. The blonde weaved unsteadily towards the restroom and locked herself inside a stall, breathing heavily.

Linka shuddered and leaned forward, pressing her cheek against the toilet door. She clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails drew blood against the smooth skin of her palms.

She dropped her forehead into her hands and leaned against the stall walls, trying so desperately to hold it together.

 _Control it. No weakness._

Because she is supposed to be independent.

Strong.

Impervious to negativity.

She so desperately wants to be impenetrable… But demonstrating such a high level of perfection was becoming harder and harder to maintain.


	4. 26th December

Last chapter guys. Hope you like it :-)

 **Impenetrable**

Chapter Four

26th December

They're back in the air again. Heading home to Hope Island and they're all a little _frayed._

Gi is seated opposite Linka and her incessant chatting is somewhat soothing. They discuss light, fluffy topics and the Russian eventually gets a couple of hours of broken sleep. Not enough to wake up feeling refreshed, but sufficient in raising her energy levels.

They touch-down in the late afternoon. Ma-Ti stuffs-up the landing due to the wind and light rain and everyone is jolted out of their seats. Wheeler gives Ma-Ti a vigorous round of applause as he powers down and Linka can't help but smile at their pilot's bashful expression.

She spends a few hours in the Common Room with Gi, curled up on the lounge and watching TV. The urge to sleep is strong but Linka has enough experience with jet lag to know that the longer she holds out, the better off she'll be.

Gi waits until the movie credits are rolling. Biding her time, like a bird of prey. She shuffles her body to the side and props the side of her face against the the soft leather, regarding her best friend solemnly. Linka anticipates the conversation before Gi has even opened her mouth.

Gi asks _the question._ Again. A seemingly inoffensive and innocuous one but for Linka, it is like signalling a bull with a red flag. Her temper flares and she can barely keep her response level. Heat rushes to her face as she acknowledges with mounting dismay that her team mates must assume she is weak, or not capable of fulfilling her duties.

But she is not weak.

Because she is independent.

Strong.

She's impervious to negativity and damn-it, she's impenetrable.

And she is fine, she hisses at Gi. Stop asking. Just stop it. Leave me alone.

Gi's face tightens and for a moment Linka thinks she's going yell but she doesn't. Gi turns and focuses back on the television, her expression as cloudy as Linka's mood

Linka grits her teeth. She feels a headache coming on. She doesn't want to dredge up the memories. She doesn't want to remember. She doesn't want to talk about it.

But regardless of what she _doesn't_ want to do, her throat tightens and she feels the torrent of emotions spiralling her upwards. She's losing her beloved control; the only currency she holds and values beyond all others.

Linka stands abruptly, knocking the TV remote to the floor as Gi's frustrated voice shouts out after her retreating figure. Linka spins on her heels and strides away, leaving Gi sitting stunned and dismayed at the knowledge that her best friend was falling apart at the seams.

* * *

It is early evening and a simple salad is prepared for dinner. They drop wearily into the assortment of dining chairs and bar stools and quickly realise they are one-team member short.

Kwame offers to seek her out but Gi shakes her head.

 _She's a hot mess. Just leave her for now. She needs some time to herself._

Kwame frowns, glancing at Wheeler as if to confirm whether he's to blame. After all, he usually is. Wheeler shakes his head and shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter and glancing in the direction of Linka's hut.

* * *

The Russian stands under the shower for far too long. The scalding water feels almost therapeutic. She feels horrendously guilty about her altercation with Gi. She knows she owes Gi an apology regarding her outburst.

The usual post-shower routine is followed, utilising her small arsenal of facial scrubs, moisturisers, body butters, hand creams and tooth paste. In that order. Always in that order. Because where would she be without routine?

Linka rubs her face tiredly and exits the bathroom, readying herself for bed. She steps back and her calves touch the bedside table. Her mothers bird figurine wobbles precariously and Linka's heart stops for a moment. She gasps as the figurine topples over and disappears, followed by an audible cracking sound as it hits the slate floor.

"Oh no, oh no. No, no, no," she moans, getting onto her hands and knees and pressing her ear to the floor, reaching under the furniture. Her fingertips are still numb as she finally grabs hold of the little ceramic keepsake with shaking hands. "Nyet…"

The head is now missing. She runs her finger over the jagged edges around the neck and blinks back tears. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and sits, crumpled against the edge of her bed. She bends forward and hangs her head in dismay; her legs outstretched and the figurine clutched tightly in the lap. Silent tears continue to fall.

The door opens and she looks up, wiping her eyes again as Wheeler closes the door softly behind him. He stops and his mouth drops open; surprised (and a little shocked) to see her slumped on the cold floor of all places, clad only in a singlet and underwear with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face.

"Babe?"

Just one simple word, but it's tone and delivery represented several words. Several phrases, all concerned. All worried.

 _Babe._

Her automatic response would be outrage. It's her safety net, her go-to reaction when it comes to Wheeler, especially after daring to enter the sanctuary of her hut unannounced.

Anger is easy with _him_ , because unlike the others, he doesn't lay down and take it. He always bites back, gives as good as he gets. An A-grade, quality verbal sparring partner.

In her world of perfection and order, Wheeler is her little dose of chaos. She feels _alive_ around him, unconstrained.

 _Don't you knock, durak?_

 _Get out Yankee._

 _What do you want?_

But today is different. The usual retorts die on her lips. The tide has turned. She sniffs, her shoulders trembling as she clutched her broken figurine tightly in her hands.

"I broke Mama's bird," was all she could whisper as she pushed herself up off the floor. She stood, almost defiant in her efforts to remain impenetrable but her legs are unsteady and her bottom lip is trembling.

Linka drops her gaze to the floor. Wheeler is still hesitating by the door and watching her quietly, unsure of how to proceed.

She doesn't want his pity.

But she tilts her head to the side as her eyes travel once again to his arms, thick and ropy with muscle under the sleeve of his white t-shirt.

Linka finally makes the connection. The realisation that his arms have always communicated strength and safety, security and comfort. Something she so desperately craves and refused to admit to herself.

Until now.

She breaks.

Her composure falls apart and she sags against the wall; her hands immediately covering her face as great, hitching sobs overcome her. The torrent has been unleashed and she turns away from _him_ as she starts to wail uncontrollably.

She doesn't hear him approach but feels those arms wrap around her shoulders, enveloping her and drawing her gently against him. He presses his chin against the top of her head and she squirms closer to him, seeking his warmth.

She clings to him, her body trembling as she grips the material of his shirt in her hands. The Russian is crying openly now, her face pressed hard against his chest and she's saturated the front of his shirt. He doesn't seem to mind.

Her knees buckle and she sinks downwards. Wheeler grunts as his body bows forward. He catches her around the waist and hauls her back up again. She's like a rag-doll; loose and limp against him and so unlike the Linka he knows.

She feels his mouth against the pulse in her neck as he readjusts her slightly. He's holding her weight up just enough so that her toes are skimming the floor. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and holds on to him for dear life, still sobbing loudly because she'll break into a million pieces if he makes the decision to let go.

He leans back slightly and watches on as she finally gets her breathing under control. The Russian rests her cheek against his shoulder and huddles closer. Her face is blotchy, her eyes are puffy and tear-stained but she's still beautiful and for the first time… vulnerable.

Damp hair is pushed tenderly away from her forehead and vibrant blue eyes lock onto her own. She blinks, wide-eyed and unaccustomed to this level of scrutiny.

"Stop fighting it," he says softly, his breath warm against the side of her face. He reaches forward with gentle fingers, wiping fresh tears away with the pad of his thumb. "You're not a machine, babe. Okay?"

She sniffs and nods, but doesn't relax her grip on him.

He smiles and presses a kiss against her forehead, still feeling the tremors wracking her body even after her tears have subsided. "C'mon," he says. "You're scarin' the shit outta' me."

She flattens her palm against his heart; a little self conscious now as he releases her. He turns her body and grips her shoulders, pushing her gently towards the bed.

"Thank you, Yankee."

"Yeah, well don't go expectin' me to be all chivalrous and sensitive with you from now on," he mutters against her neck and she splutters with indignation. "I've gotta' reputation to maintain."

She can't help herself. Linka gives a choked laugh and wipes her face as he drops down onto the edge of her mattress, pulling her down beside him; his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

He shuffles them back until he's sitting against the headboard. He pulls her into his lap and she sits cradled against him with her long legs draped over his and her cheek against his shoulder. His arms wrap around her again and Linka sighs as the gentle weight of his hand rests against her waist. The other hand lies flat across her upper thigh, stroking her skin in soothing, circular motions.

"I'm sorry," she whispers softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

"S'all right," he replies with a shrug. "You're not wearin' much so I'll forgive you."

His words allow her a brief epiphany that she's only clad in briefs and a singlet. But she's so comfortable and drowsy and feeling _at peace_ that she's beyond the point of caring.

Linka's eyelids become heavy as she's lulled by the rise and fall of Wheeler's chest. Her breathing is now slow and steady.

But before sleep claims her; before Gi checks in on her at first light and finds them both asleep; Wheeler curled around her body and holding her tightly, the realisation hits Linka like a tonne of bricks.

That she doesn't _have_ to be independent.

She doesn't _want_ to be strong.

She can't be impervious to negativity.

And she's definitely not impenetrable. Not by any means.

And for the first time in her life, maybe that's okay.


End file.
